Cage of Thorn (The Blackthorn Cycle Book 2)

by L. M. Hawke

  “No, no,” Forget-me-not said wither another of her light, musical laughs. “We can see all across our world, too; of course we can. But that’s so ordinary—so simple. It’s much more exciting to peep at the human realm, or one of the others.”

  “Not for me,” Una said. “I think the human realm is dull, since I’ve lived there my whole life. But I’ve never been here before—to the Sidhe realm. I want to learn all about it—see everything I can. You’ll help me, won’t you, Cousin?”

  The flattery of calling her “cousin” was enough to encourage Forget-me-not. She nodded eagerly.

  “But you’ll have to have some idea of who or what you want to see,” Forget-me-not said. “Otherwise I can’t bring up any vision at all.”

  “I want to see…” Una’s brow furrowed. She fought to recall the conversation in the throne room—Dax’s explanation of where Ailill was now, what had happened to him. She sorted through memories of the throne room, but the process was slow and impeded, like swimming through a vat of treacle.

  There was a name she knew, a name she must remember… a name Dax had given her.

  “I want to see Etain,” Una said, remembering the name with a sudden flash of inspiration.

  Forget-me-not gasped. “Cousin! To look on one of the Unseelie is dangerous.”

  “Why? Why should any member of the Seelie court fear only to look?”

  “It’s… it’s not something I can do,” Forget-me-not stammered. “I’d be too afraid. The Leanan is our worst enemy, Cousin Una. She will destroy us if she can, and take our palace and what remains of our power for herself.”

  It was clear from Forget-me-not’s pale face and trembling hands that she was truly too frightened to attempt it. Una would have to take a different tack if she hoped to succeed. The wine haze still clouded most of her earliest memories of the Otherworld—the things Dax had said in the throne room, especially—but Una felt sufficiently recovered now to think more carefully.

  She considered Forget-me-not for a moment, then said, “Who were you looking for earlier—when I found you here at the pool?”

  Forget-me-not blushed again. “No one of any import.”

  “Forget-me-not,” Una said with a slow, conspiratorial smile, “do you have a lover?”

  The Seelie turned her face away, covering her mouth with her hand to stifle her nervous giggle.

  “You do!” Una took her hand. The Seelie’s skin was indescribably smooth, like well-worn silk. She looked at Una in surprise and wonder.

  Una sobered her expression. She found it easy enough to do, for the urgency of her situation weighed heavily on her spirit. “I have a lover, too, Cousin. His name is Ailill. You know who he is, don’t you?”

  Forget-me-not’s face fell. Her bright green eyes seemed to deepen with sorrow, until they were like two gazing pools themselves, still and reflective. “Yes. I heard his name in the throne room. I heard what the prince said about him, too, Una.”

  “Then you know that Etain has taken him.”

  “Una…” Forget-me-not’s pale lashes lowered to hide her eyes. “If the Leanan has your lover, then I fear it is too late for him.”

  “No.” Una squeezed Forget-me-not’s hand. “I can’t believe it’s too late. If I allow myself to think that, then my heart will break, and I’ll never recover.”

  It was true. To Una’s surprise, every word she said was true. She had come to love Ailill, impossible though that seemed, for they had not known each other long. But she could no longer deny the truth that beat deep inside her heart.

  “Please help me,” Una said softly. “Take pity on me, Cousin. You know what it’s like to be separated from the one you love.”

  “Very well,” Forget-me-not said, her voice barely stronger than a whisper. “For you, I’ll try.”

  She bent over the pool, staring into her own eyes. For several long moments, nothing happened. Una knelt stiffly beside the Seelie, heart pounding, hoping against hope that the plan would work, and something—anything—would be revealed about Ailill’s condition and whereabouts.

  But when Forget-me-not’s vision appeared, Una wished she hadn’t seen it at all.

  The violet surface of the pool lost its bluish cast until it seemed almost entirely red. Everything in it—the shadowy reflections of Una and Forget-me-not, the tops of the fruit trees, even the scattered stars—took on a distinctly ruddy hue. Then shapes began to appear in the water: A man, pale and thin, lying in some kind of curtained alcove. It looked somewhat like a bed, if a bed could be carved into a great stone wall. The man was naked, and seemed to be reclining at ease…

  No! As the vision became sharper, clearer, Una’s heart skipped a painful beat. Now she could make out Ailill’s features—his finely carved face, his tousled dark hair and short-cropped beard—and, of course, his nude body, the memory of which was imprinted so deeply in Una’s mind that even Seelie magic could no longer obscure it. And he was definitely not at ease. Though he was propped up slightly on red cushions, now Una could see that Ailill’s head lolled weakly to the side, his eyelids fluttered, and his chest rose and fell in a faint, ragged rhythm.

  Had the Leanan already drained him—of blood or artistic power—past the point of no return?

  It can’t be, Una thought hotly. It can’t be. I won’t let it be too late.

  A woman’s voice spoke in that place, in that red otherness. “You must sing for me again, Ailill, my obedient pet.” She sounded amused—arrogant and powerful and amused. “I am not done with you. No, not for a while yet. You will sing again—but for me. Only for me. Always for me.”

  A chill wracked Una, body and soul. It was the same voice she’d heard that night at the crossroads, when she’d returned to give Ailill a piece of her mind and found him vanished into the forest. Of course. The Sidhe vampire had come to him then—come to haunt him, to control him, as she had been doing for God-knew-how-long.

  Tears stung Una’s eyes. She tried to wipe them away surreptitiously, but Forget-me-not noticed; she looked away from the pool, and mercifully, the vision disappeared.

  “Una—Cousin. I’m so sorry,” Forget-me-not said.

  “So it’s true,” Una replied. Her voice was a rough croak. “That Leanan Sidhe has him. Etain.” She all but spat the name into the gazing pool.

  “Yes, it’s true,” Forget-me-not said gently. “If I’d known how bad it was, I wouldn’t have agreed to show you. But there’s nothing to be done, Una! We can’t leave the palace grounds.” The girl shuddered. “Our magic isn’t strong enough, out there beyond the stones, and Etain wants us to overstep ourselves. She waits for us to forget, or lose composure, and venture out there, where she can take us. She will kill us one by one, if that’s what it takes to win—if that’s what she must do to overthrow us and finally take control our world. Prince Dax was nearly taken by her, too, when he tried to bring your Ailill back to our palace. It was a very near miss.”

  “I don’t have any magic,” Una said levelly, “so it doesn’t matter if I leave the palace. I’m just as powerless in here as I would be out there. And just as powerful, too.” If I can hope to have any strength at all, against the magic of an evil fairy-vampire.

  “You mustn’t!” Forget-me-not nearly shouted. “Cousin, the Leanan would be all too glad to capture you, or just kill you outright. She surely knows how much you mean to us. She must know that you are our last hope.”

  “Why didn’t she kill Ailill?” Yet… “Surely you heard what Prince Dax said—Ailill has some Seelie blood, too. Just not as much as me.”

  “All Leanan love artists. They feed off those poor souls’ creations. You… you heard Etain telling him he must sing again. She is… Oh, don’t make me say such cruel things to you, Cousin!”

  “Say it.” Una’s resolve was rapidly turning to steel.

  “The Leanan is growing stronger by draining him… sucking away his strength by degrees. Little by little. She will kill him slowly, so that she can wring more power from his spirit.
”

  “But there must be a way to stop her,” Una said hoarsely. “This can’t be the end for him.”

  “The only way I know,” Forget-me-not said slowly, paling with sympathy, “is for Seelie power to increase until we are strong enough to overthrow the Unseelie. We can hope, Cousin Una, that Etain keeps your lover alive long enough. We can hope he will last until our power flourishes again.”

  It was a preposterously slim hope, that the whims and desires of a vampire might preserve Ailill in that terrible half-living state until the Seelie Court had rose again.

  But in that moment, it was the only hope Una could cling to.

  5

  Una went directly back to her chamber after she and Forget-me-not parted ways. The sight of Ailill, weak and suffering, had drained away all desire to explore and discover more about her surroundings. Now she wanted to curl up in a ball and weep, but she knew that giving in to fear and sadness would only render her even more useless. She sat on her soft bed, surrounded by the gauzy green drapes that hung from its canopy, and stared despondently out the window into the garden beyond.

  How, in the name of all that was good and sane, could Una hope to find Ailill in the Otherworld? Was he still in the Otherworld at all, or had Etain carried him off to some other realm? And even if she could find him quickly, how could she hope to defeat a powerful vampire? Etain valued Ailill’s life for the energy she could drain from his spirit. But Una was no artist; she had nothing the vampire could use, except the blood in her veins. Etain would make short work of Una—she was grimly assured of that.

  Hunger pinched her stomach painfully. She eyed the tray on her table; the bits of bread and the small red fruits called to her insistently. She wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. Before the fog of the Otherworld’s enchantment set in again—maybe for good this time—she had to discover whether she could do anything right now, this very hour, to find and free Ailill.

  Una stood and paced restlessly around the room, seeing none of its beautiful, delicate furnishings or the soft, dreamy colors of the Otherworld. All she could see were her own frantic thoughts—a whirlwind of images, half-formed ideas, and desperate hopes spinning inside her mind.

  Breathing deeply, she forced herself to embrace whatever shreds of calm she could summon up. Think, Una. Think. You won’t do any good by losing your head. She slowed her thoughts with a force of will she never knew she possessed, and tried to put some order and sense to the few facts she had gleaned about the Otherworld.

  “Their powers are weak,” she said quietly, speaking to the emptiness of her chamber. Somehow, talking aloud helped her feel calmer… a bit calmer, at any rate. “Their magic is a shadow of what it once was, but weak as they are now, the Seelie can still operate in the human realm.”

  It was true; their magic was still potent enough to allow the Seelie Court to reach across the veil and touch the human world—interact with it.

  Communicate with it.

  “Could it work in reverse, then?” Una asked herself. Her voice sounded very small inside that wide chamber, with its soaring ceiling and cold stone walls. But at least it gave her something to listen to, other than her own pounding heart. “Humans may be magically weak, but can we reach through the veil from our world to the Otherworld, and influence Seelie reality, as they do ours?”

  Humans were unsophisticated—practically insignificant—compared to the advancement, refinement, and sheer power of the Sidhe. But sometimes smallness and fragility offered unexpected benefits… advantages, for those who looked closely enough to see them. A big enough wall could keep out a whole army, but a mouse could slip through a tiny crack in that very same wall…

  Una found herself beside the window, staring out into the garden. Her eyes were unfocused, her thoughts turned inward as she struggled to formulate some clear, workable plan. The images were whirling through her head again, fleeting, fractured, impossible to catch and hold. But she did manage to cling to one: the memory of the tile-lined pool in her dream, and the familiar face that stared up at her through the water.

  It might work. It might provide a way forward.

  Slowly, Una’s view of the garden came back into focus, the tangle of leaves, branches, and flowers growing sharp and distinct before her eyes, the blur of colors separating into one clearly defined scene. She was confident that she could find her way back to the little grotto that contained the gazing pool. From there, she might be able to make contact… if luck was on her side.

  She turned her back once more on the table and food, and, despite her rumbling stomach, left her chamber again.

  It didn’t take long to find the pool, but Una approached it cautiously, one hesitant step at a time, straining her ears for any sign that she might not be alone. She stared about as she went, searching for the least sign of movement in the garden. But the paths and garden beds remained still and empty. Una was alone, as far as she could tell. She crept around the edge of one of the stone walls that screened the gazing pool from sight, and found the mossy grotto as unoccupied as the rest of the garden. Forget-me-not was nowhere to be seen; nor was any other Seelie.

  Una moved with more urgency now, hurrying across the springy moss to the pool. She dropped to her knees at the edge of the bright-colored tiles and leaned over the water until she could see her own reflection clearly, staring up from below.

  How had Forget-me-not said it was done?

  Look into your own eyes. Don’t break eye contact, or the vision will disappear.

  Una stared down into her own dark gaze, noting how desperate and strained she looked. Well, there’s good enough reason for that, isn’t there? She did her best to push her clamoring fears aside and concentrated on the person she wanted to see.

  Kathleen. Wise and knowing, eager and helpful, always a good friend. Kathleen. Una concentrated on the memory of her friend—her face, her hair, her bouncing movements and bubbly laugh. She focused on summoning up every detail she could recall, with the hope that it would be enough to stretch her thoughts and intentions across the veil.

  Slowly, mistily, Una’s reflection faded, replaced by the faint suggestion of other shapes, other images. She set her jaw and willed herself to keep her eyes exactly where they had been, staring into the place where her eyes had rippled on the water, moments before.

  The images in the water clarified, solidified. But none of them was Kathleen. First Una saw Ailill—not in the state she had last seen him, thank goodness. This vision was more a memory than a look into what was happening to him right now. It was fleeting and insubstantial—just Ailill in Una’s garden, back home at the stone cottage in Kylebeg, turning to look at her over his shoulder. He was smiling, freed from the haunted, sorrowful air that usually hung over him like a thin, misty shroud.

  Una gasped and nearly reached into the water to try to touch him, but as soon as Ailill appeared, he was gone again, replaced by the face of an old woman whom Una knew, yet didn’t. The woman’s hair was white, and hung in a long braid over one shoulder. Her deeply lined face stared back at Una gravely—something serious was weighing on the woman’s mind—but there was also a certain warmth in her eyes, a feeling of pride and acceptance. Why did Una know her? She was certain she’d never seen the woman before, and yet… she felt she had.

  “Gran,” she muttered, suddenly understanding. The old woman was her grandmother, Nessa Teig. The vaguest memories of her face still hid somewhere in Una’s mind, from long ago when she was a little girl of only four or five—the last time she had seen her grandmother. This face, older and more serious, must represent what Nessa had looked like shortly before she’d died. But why was Una seeing her now? Nessa was gone.

  Time works differently here than in the human realm, she realized with a slow, curdling chill. Kathleen had told her so. Perhaps she could see the past in the human realm—for short stretches, anyway.

  Just as she was beginning to look more closely at her grandmother, the vision changed again. This time she saw a b
onfire, not unlike the one she’d witnessed on Beltane Night in the village of Kylebeg, with costumed celebrants leaping and twirling in the flickering light of the flames. But Una couldn’t determine where this fire was, in time or in space. Were the ones who danced around it modern-day people, or echoes of an age long past?

  Kathleen, she told herself firmly. The fire was irrelevant. Focus on Kathleen.

  The fire image blurred, and slipped into another scene, then another. The images stirred and changed so quickly, Una couldn’t recognize anything significant about any of them. She bit back a growl and clenched her fists, willing herself to focus, to summon only thoughts of Kathleen.

  “Kathleen,” she said under her breath. Then more loudly, as her frustration grew. “Kathleen. Kathleen! Kathleen!”

  For the barest moment—no more than an eye blink—Una thought she saw Kathleen’s face, green eyes wide with shocked recognition, mouth just beginning to open as if to speak to her.

  But then she heard a shout from the garden path—“Una Teig!”—and her gaze slid away from the pool, and the image was lost.

  Una looked up frantically from the gazing pool’s edge. Several Seelie men were striding toward her, their robes and long, straight hair rippling out behind them as they hurried to her side.

  Una stood quickly, brushing bits of moss and grass from the front of her skirt. “I… I was just…”

  The man who reached her first took Una by the arm. His grip was gentle, yet its firmness made his point clearly enough. “You should not be wandering about the palace on your own, Una Teig.”

  “It’s just Una,” she said with a surly frown.

  “Bracken and the prince wish you to remain in your chamber.”

  “No doubt Bracken does. She drugged me—do you know that?”

  The one who held her arm did not reply. He only tugged her toward the path—and her chamber.

  Of course he knows, Una chided herself. Everything is drugged here, for a human like me. The whole place is enchanted. I can’t break the spell entirely unless I can get away from them. I must get away.